The National Geographic Magazine
"We'll use Dorado herself this time," Skip
per Douglas decided. And use her he did,
twisting and turning within the narrow un
marked channels, backing all engines when
shoals rose suddenly beneath her, going ahead
as whales were sighted near by.
Still we had no clear shots. It seemed
almost as if the whales were playing tag with
Dorado. Then came welcome news: "Ballena
repaired and ready to lower."
Our hard
working crew had fitted the powerboat with
the new propeller and shaft, made the patch
watertight and the sturdy craft seaworthy
once again.
We anchored immediately. Within minutes
the boat was lowered away. This time it was
a true whaleboat, for in place of its rudder
torn away by the whale, an oar now served as
a tiller.
We were soon away, with Skipper Douglas,
Sam Matthews, and "Captain Ephraim" man
ning the rescue skiff in the wake of Ballena.
The tide had turned, and whales were every
where.
As we moved across the shallows, eddy
ing with swift-running tide, we could hear
the monsters blowing. As each surfaced,
across the calm water came a long throaty
"whoooooosh," somewhat like a locomotive
in a railroad station releasing a burst of
steam.
"Thar She Blows" Signals a Chase
On Ballena Dr. King cried out, "Thar
she blows!" With Paul Levesque he stood
ready with the guns. The boats turned to
gether to give chase. A group of full-grown
whales moved slowly upchannel. Gleaming
backs, showing white barnacle patches, rolled
above the surface, submerged, and then sur
faced again a few minutes later.
Ballena's first approach proved too fast.
When they next appeared, the whales were
behind her but still coming straight ahead.
Apparently, unlike the female that previously
had attacked, these whales were quite un
disturbed by the boat. Ballena made a wide,
cautious turn and edged up once again.
Without any warning, the enormous head
of a gray shot straight up out of the water in
a spy-hop. Spray showered from its sides.
"Fire!" shouted Levesque. Both harpoon
guns cracked simultaneously. Lines flashed
outward from the reels at the muzzles.
The upright whale gave a massive shudder
and fell away to one side in a white thrash of
water.
"Let's get out of here!" someone
aboard Ballena shouted. Behind the boat an
orange marker buoy shot away, leaving a
foamy wake.
Certainly one dart had struck the whale
and buried itself strongly. Dr. King, with
the last turn of electric wire snagged on the
reel of his gun, found his weapon jerked from
his hands. It hung above the water, held by
a safety line to the boat.
In a flash Bud Gardiner jerked a knife from
a sheath at his waist and cut the taut rope.
Line, gun-and knife-snapped outward,
spun, and vanished beneath the waves.
Whale's Charge Snaps Line
The wire from the fouled gun must have
snapped in the whale's first great lunge. Ap
parently the other barb pulled free, for a
second later the orange marker drifted lazily
to a stop. When we pulled it in, a single arrow
trailed from the twisted line.
Such was our final foray against our re
luctant patients. We had lost a gun, and
nearly lost a boat. We had learned much
about the touchiness of whales at the height
of their calving season. We had found once
more that our heartbeat-hunting weapons
were not yet adequate for their job.
Even if we could have stayed several weeks
more inside Scammon Lagoon, we doubt that
we could have achieved our goal on this oc
casion. The seeming ease with which the
harpooned whale snapped our connecting cable
made it apparent that far stouter line would
be necessary to hold a connection.
It was time now to depart. Once again
we heard Donald Douglas say,
"Captain
Ephraim, be not downhearted! The Captain
Scammon Club will convene here again. And
next time perhaps we'll come after mama
whale in a helicopter. Let her try to stave
us in then!"
Valuable Experience Gained
As Johnny Martin lifted our northward
bound plane and roared across Scammon's
wide expanse, Dorado lay slim and white be
neath us, preparing for its voyage home.
We were not downhearted. We had failed,
but it was a profitable failure, for we knew
now where our shortcomings lay.
We will surely go back, winding through
Douglas Channel past Cardiac Island and
Geographic Island, to record the heartbeat of
the wary grays.